Rider's Kiss

But when it comes right down to it, his pride whispers that there can only be one winner. Does he give up the competition… or give up the girl?

Warning: Features a dirty talking chef, thousand-calorie recipes, and a very private menu of delicious seductions.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Cravings:

“Hey!”

Lee took a deep breath as the five-foot-nothing woman came tearing into his restaurant. Eyes narrowing, jaw clamping down, he tried like hell to keep the irritation from his face. The racing heartbeat, the heat that swirled in his belly, were harder to control.

“Are you seriously calling a tow truck on my customers? Seriously?” Ginger Danielle, a chef in her own right and owner of the shack next door, dared to cross his threshold. Blonde hair spiked in sixty different haphazard points almost detracted from at least half a dozen earrings trailing along the rounded arches of her ears. The signature man’s T-shirt she wore shouldn’t make him breathe a little harder by looking at it, but the lush lines of her body beneath it certainly did. And that ass—Christ, that ass! She threw out hips, thighs and ass for miles.

How many different times had he imagined her on her knees looking up at him with those bright blue eyes while sucking him off? And that wasn’t the only position in which he’d conjured her. He’d come up with at least a dozen. Possibly more. But his favorites always had her beneath him, willingly taking what he offered. A few of them involved a bit of consensual manhandling, always with the understanding that in the end they’d both enjoy the final result. It was almost obscene the way he pictured her draped across a table, ass up, as he plowed into her. Her persistent attitude, the take-no-shit bossiness, made him want to do things to her. All sexual.

He tried like crazy to ignore his body’s lust for her, but damn it all to hell, it would not be tamed. Every time he saw Ginger—every single time—he went hard as he studied her lips, her tits or her ass. And then she had to make it worse by being funny, smart and sassy. Fucking deadly combination.

“My parking lot, my grass, my privilege,” Lee replied. Somehow his voice remained steady, not betraying the annoying excitement of seeing her again.

Every instinct urged him to lift his gaze a fraction, to see how the customers were reacting to this little drama unfolding before them, but he knew better than to take his attention away from his curvaceous spitfire.

Ginger rolled her eyes. “I swear to God, Lee, I swear to God you do these things to get a rise out of me.”

Might be somewhat true. “No, I do these things because your so-called customers have no business anywhere near my place. They’re impeding on my profit.”

“Asshole,” she grumbled, almost beneath her breath but certainly loud enough for him to hear. “You just don’t like the fact that you reside over here in hoighty-toighty land. Hell, if a person eats escargot with a salad fork, someone’s likely to hand out a citation.”

“And over there, forks are nonexistent. Got indoor plumbing yet?”

She smiled big, a silly grin that made his lower abdomen tighten, but he watched those hands ball into fists and settle on her hips. Damn, he loved those hips.

The smile died. “I expected better out of you. Now you’re not just coming after me, you’re driving away my customers. I canno

t allow you to do that. Cannot.”

He suffered a twinge of guilt. It was a knock to the back of his head about having to put his business first. Why couldn’t they be residential neighbors arguing about whether the flourishing papaya tree sat on his property line or hers? Or two people at a supermarket, each reaching for the same ripe pineapple? Or just plain, simple fuck buddies?

No—they had to be restaurant owners competing for customers. Each trying to stay afloat in a rough economy where people held their money close to their chests. The chefs’ cuisines couldn’t be any more opposite, but he’d seen for himself that his customers ventured toward her place on occasion, where she offered simple, everyday comfort food. On the rare occasion, one of hers moseyed over to see how the other half lived, which was a good thing. He didn’t care how he got his business, so long as he got it.

“Come with me,” he said. Enough of dealing with this situation where they made themselves a spectacle. When talking—arguing—with Ginger, they needed a much more intimate space for their wheeling and dealing.

A loud exhalation hissed out of her, but Lee didn’t wait to find out if she’d follow. She would.

He knew better but would have loved to turn and ask her to lead the way. To give him the opportunity to watch the curve of her ass beneath black slacks that hugged it just this side of decent. If she’d donned stilettos instead of clogs and a silk wrap instead of a cotton T-shirt with those same clinging pants, she’d have been ready for an evening of fine wine, exceptional food and sultry music. Better yet, replace the slacks with a skirt barely touching the tops of her knees…convince the staff to clear out three hours early…turn the lights down low…and he’d have her over that table in no time. Not just a simple fuck, but pure seduction, starting with trailing his tongue down the curve of her spine. Skimming the surface of her skin with his fingertips. Finding the spots that made her smile. The ones that made her sigh. Or moan.

“Are you even listening?”

Pulled out of his too-vivid thoughts, pushing aside the imagined taste of her, Lee glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “I said I didn’t come over here for this. Don’t have time for it. I just want you to stop harassing my customers, or I will have to do what’s necessary.”

Lee pulled open the door, stepped back and waited for her to enter before him. She’d always viewed his chivalry with a suspicious glance, but for once, she entered without a sidelong look directed at him. Besides the restrooms, this was the only room in the restaurant with a door. Oh, the things he could do with her now if she’d only let him. “And exactly what would that be? Although on second thought, I doubt there’s much you can do. My customers do not dare cross your threshold for fear of typhoid, ebola and other such contractibles.”

Amusement shone in her eyes before they narrowed, a new fire shimmering forth. Despite what came out of her mouth next, she’d kind of liked his barb. Not that she’d admit it aloud. But he knew, and these moments, when a smile skated microseconds from curving those sensuous lips, kept his wit and tongue sharp.

“Last chance,” Ginger said. “You do not want to be on my bad side.”

“Darlin’,” Lee said, pausing mid-step to lean his mouth closer to her ear. “Are you sure about that?”